Travel Day 1 Austin to London to Entebbe

Austin, Chicago, London to Entebbe

So the night before we left, I of course had not finished packing. I was rushing to complete a paper for school leftover from the semester I didn’t really finish, and I was so invested in it I could hardly do anything else. I didn’t even have time to call everyone and say goodbye, so at about 9pm I started with the east coast clan. I told my friend Karen my status and she said, “Jake, seriously, you can’t miss your flight.” She knew my previous airport debacles pretty well, but I reassured her that I had it all planned out on my own crazy schedule to finish everything 5 minutes before, or after, it was time to leave.

“I worked all through the night” as my dad had observed in Austin, and was pretty much on schedule when the countdown began at about 8am. Rachael had convinced me to shuttle her over to the drag at UT to get her International Student ID Card, go to the bank and do some last minute shopping at CVS, and she said she would help me finishing packing in the last 2 hours before we were supposed to leave to the airport. Then we got the call. Apparently some American Airlines workers were threatening to go on strike, and our flight to Chicago had been cancelled. We had been put in the 11:30am flight – which meant that we needed to be at the airport like…now. Most of the group was on their way to the airport. Holy Shit. We took off to the apartment, and the madness began.

Rachael literally threw everything that was on the apartment floor into my suitcases, and I gathered what I thought was everything I needed in my endless supply of bags within bags. After screaming back and forth at each other (she didn’t understand my system) and a quick change of clothes, we were off to the airport. The two hours I planned to use for packing quickly turned into less than a 10 minute hustle in the blink of an eye.

AUSTIN TO CHICAGO

My poor adviser Sara was of course freaking out, but we managed to get the bags loaded and through security with just a few minutes to spare before the flight. Needless to say I was just about exhausted. Luckily I had a seat by the window, in the first row of coach with good legroom, so I had a pretty good opportunity to sleep on way to Chicago.

Before I could, however, the captain came on and began to explain how it was we would in fact make it to Chicago. “First we’re gonna go up north though Tulsa, Oklahoma, then on up to Missouri, then…” I thought of Jerry Seinfeld: “Yah, do whatever the hell you gotta do, just get us there in one piece.” How interesting could it be? North, to Chicago. “Do whatever the hell you gotta do, and before we get there, wake me up with a warning so the boy next to me can see the landing” I said to him, before closing the blades and finally resting my head asleep.

CHICAGO AIRPORT

We got to O’Hare airport somewhere around 2pm I think. “We’re in Chicago, right?” I asked our partners. We had a 6 hour layover ahead of us, and although I was tired, I wanted to do a little shopping and finish the damn paper. We went and had lunch and were ready to gallivant around the international terminal, which was apparently a separate building on the monorail just a short train ride away. “Now that you’re here, you won’t want to leave” said the large sign, bragging with the Chicago city skyline, brought to you by the Chicago visitors and welcome board. Whitney and I both had wanted to play in Chicago with our 6 hours, but we knew if we tried to go and come back in the short window, we probably wouldn’t make it to London. So, thinking we’d find better shopping and fun things to do at the international terminal, we boarded the monorail and

saw what little of Chicago we could.

The international terminal was surprisingly and unfortunately small and boring, and now that we had left security at the other terminal, this was our home for the next several hours. We walked to a random gate since ours wasn’t even on the screen yet, and I took out my computer and went back to work on the paper.

I worked almost the entire layover, again almost finishing but not quite ready to email, though I had shelled out $7 for wireless access even though it hardly came in handy. As the group reunited at our gate, we got more excited to be on another step closer to Africa, but with another set of 7 hour checkpoints before we got there.

FLIGHT TO LONDON

We flew British Airways. My only trip abroad had been with the sexy, media-savvy Virgin Airways, but BA turned out to be fine. We jealously passed business class, with the reclining seats and private cubicle-like enclosures and made our way to the back of the plane. Though our group was scattered around the aircraft we were all pretty close, and luckily Rachael and I got to sit next to each other, not yet being comfortable with, nor wanting, an assimilation into the group setting. We got excited about the in-flight movies but quickly realized they were only shown on flights from the UK, not to, so we were stuck with stupid choices. The British Airways safety video, however, provided for good entertainment. It described what to do in case the plane went down, and offered two options. “If you’re sitting in coach,” it said, “place your hands behind your head and bend down, tucking your head between your legs in the ‘brace’ position.” But, “if you’re in Club World,” it said, “you place your hands across your chest” – showing a comfortable stick-figure British man resting comfortably in “club world position” I guess as the animated plane went down. Rachael and I cracked up. “Did it just say that? Seriously?” “Our goal should be a society without classes,” she said, quoting Elaine from Seinfeld.

That was about all the entertainment I could take anyway. After dinner came and went, I took my homeopathic version of Tylonel PM, and with one glass of white wine, I was out like a light.

I slept like a baby almost the whole flight. With about 45 minutes left, we got mini-breakfast and I woke up, feeling rested and ready for London. Chelse and Rachel were not impressed.

LONDON AIRPORT

It was about 11am on July 4^th when we landed in London, but I had no concept of day, time, place or holiday. I looked up and saw the green running man – my favorite sign of being abroad. We walked what seemed to be a never-ending corridor, but finally made it to the main terminal at Heathrow. It was a bit overwhelming. Duty free shops and expensive clothing stores everywhere. All we wanted was a cup of coffee and a place to put our bags. Rachael immediately began lambasting the British for giving the world their dirty capitalism and colonialism. But then she saw Starbucks, and was drawn toward the light. We threw our bags down, had a snack and planned out our next 7 hour journey. I was ready to go. Rachael (who, poor thing, desperately wanted just two things, a nap and a shower) – not so much. I told her that I belonged on this side of the world because I had successfully reset my brain to the current hemisphere. She said that I hadn’t really done that, I was just backwards in the states. “No, I’m just right over here” I said.

I liked London. I liked the British. I don’t think they are rude…they’re just indifferent to things going on around them…they don’t care what anyone else is doing. I also like the UK because it brings people from all over the world. I people-watched for a long time. The guy next to me at Starbucks noticed my “Texas fight” shirt and asked the dreaded question, if I went there. I explained to him like I had so many before that I went to St. Edward’s University – a small private Catholic university in South Austin that was affiliated with the Congregation of the Holy Cross. Although it was a mouthful and much easier than saying “yes I go to UT,” I still do it, because despite the ups and downs with St. Ed’s, I was proud of my education and mindful that it was the school that had taken me through life’s journey and was now taking me to Africa. The girl next to us inquired about his accent, which I couldn’t make out, and after they realized they both spoke French, they started a never-ending conversation. It was interesting though. She was on route from her studies in Montreal to Madrid I think she said, and I don’t know what he was doing, but he had worked for the government in South Africa, though he seemed Middle-Eastern and said he spoke Aramaic. There it was – globalization.

Back to work for me. I used what was left of my laptop’s battery and then sought out to find an outlet to charge it up and do it all over again. After I found one, I realized my brother’s 2-prong converter wouldn’t work, so I went on what I thought would be an expensive and wild goose chase through Heathrow airport to find one that did. I managed to find a pretty good universal adapter for 15 pounds, which wasn’t bad. I’m sure I would put it to good use now and in the future.

I worked and worked alongside a Salmon and white dinner at a nice restaurant on the other side of the airport. With an hour before the flight and a growing impatient Rachael, I knew I had not correctly cited my sources, and so I decided not to finish until I got to Africa. Stupid academic integrity. I really thought I could finish. But something told me I had to go all the way to Africa to find a clear head to be able to finish.

I called my parents from the airport, and they were doing well on the way to the VIP cabin in Riodoso that Monica hooked up for them. For the first time I realized it was July 4^th. I knew we would be missing the holiday on this trip, but I was glad. I am not the biggest fan of America right now, especially since we were going to a place where so much goodwill could be done but is not. I was especially glad to be in London for this day, because the British laugh at our silly independence. Whitney said she met some Canadians at the airport and when she told them she was from America, they said, “oh isn’t this your special day?” Ha.

It was now less than 30 minutes before takeoff, and we got excited again, but a little nervous. We waited at the cramped gate and finally boarded. I looked at my boarding pass. Next to my name it said “World Traveler.” For the first time, I was about to be. No more journeys to Mexico, Canada or Europe. It was time to see the real world.

We thought the flight to Entebbe was going to be empty, but it quickly filled up. What were all these people going to Uganda for? Most of them were white, and many of them affiliated with churches – one group was there to do a Bible study, and the other to help local Christian teachers. Rachael and I gave a silent “humph,” especially when I saw the man with his “Jesus is God” shirt. After all, although we were affiliated with the church, we were there to do much more than spread the word of God, which throughout history, had been a cover for brutal European colonialism. We weren’t going there to export capitalism, we were going there to save Africa from it.

FLIGHT TO ENTEBBE

I went through the same routine I did in Chicago. After dinner the pills hadn’t kicked in so I watched a little bit of the good movies now that we were on a flight from the UK, and after a glass of red wine, I was out again. About 8 hours later, I woke up and looked around. Chelse immediately reminded me I had slept the whole flight, and that she was again not impressed to have watched me do so the whole way. Then the woman across from me nominated me for passenger-who-got-the-most-sleep, and I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders, thankful that it had been such a shortened and pleasant journey for me.